“It’s a pretty good place,” announced King in a matter-of-fact way, though inwardly he was suffering a decided pang of sympathy for the young stranger he was to leave within its walls.  “And the Doctor said he’d have some one meet us who knew all about you, so there’d be no fuss.”

He leaped out and came around to her side.  She began to thank him once more, but he cut her short.  “I’m going in with you, if I may,” he said.  “Something might go wrong about their understanding, and I could save you a bit of bother.”

She made no objection, and he helped her out.  He kept his hand under her arm as they went up the steps, and did not let her go until they were in a small reception room, where they were asked to wait for a minute.  He realized now more than he had done before her weakness and the sense of loneliness that was upon her.  He stood beside her, hat in hand, wishing he had some right to let her know more definitely than he had ventured to do how sorry he was for her, and how she could count on his thinking about her as a brother might while she was within these walls.

But Burns’s message evidently had taken effect, as his messages usually did, for after a very brief wait two figures in uniform appeared, one showing the commanding presence of a person in authority, the other wearing the pleasantly efficient aspect of the active nurse.  Miss Linton was to be taken to her room at once, the necessary procedure for admittance being attended to later.

Miss Linton seemed to know something about hospitals, for she offered instant remonstrance.  “It’s a mistake, I think,” she said, lifting her head as if it were very heavy, but speaking firmly.  “I prefer not to have a room.  Please put me in your least expensive ward.”

The person in authority smiled.  “Doctor Burns said room,” she returned.  “Nobody here is accustomed to dispute Doctor Burns’s orders.”

“But I must dispute them,” persisted the girl.  “I am not—­willing—­to take a room.”

“Don’t concern yourself about that now,” said the other.  “You can settle it with the Doctor when he comes by and by.”

Jordan King inwardly chuckled.  “I wonder if it’s going to be a case of two red heads,” he said to himself.  “I’ll bet on R.P.”

The nurse put her arm through Miss Linton’s.  “Come,” she said gently.  “You ought not to be standing.”

The girl turned to King, and put out her small hand in its mended glove.  He grasped it and dared to give it a strong pressure, and to say in a low tone:  “It’ll be all right, you know.  Keep a stiff upper lip.  We’re not going to forget you.”  He very nearly said “I.”

“Good-bye,” she said.  “I shall not forget how kind you’ve been.”

Then she was gone through the big door, the tall nurse beside her supporting steps which seemed suddenly to falter, and King was staring after her, feeling his heart contract with sympathy.

* * * * *